


Your Body a Canvas

by masked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Paint, Dean Winchester's Freckles, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masked/pseuds/masked
Summary: Based on a dialogue prompt: "The paint’s supposed to gowhere?"Castiel gets creative with Dean's back.





	Your Body a Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on April 6, 2015 [here](http://hamburgergod.tumblr.com/post/115624320028/deancas-19).
> 
> I love that we as a fandom have a tag for Dean's freckles.

“The paint’s supposed to go _where_?”

Cas sighs a little. “On your back, Dean. It’s supposed to be relaxing and an intimate gesture that’s supposed to bring us closer together—”

“Is this from another one of those ‘Things Couples Can Do Together’ lists you keep finding on that website?”

“It’s called tumblr, and yes, it is.”

Cas patiently waits for Dean’s approval, and after few minute of staring at his pleading eyes, Dean sighs. “Alright, _fine_.” Cas quietly brightens with a grin, and Dean shakes his head to hide a smile of his own. Well, how bad could it be? “But I get to watch whatever the hell I want.”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean opts to catching up on _Game of Thrones_ so he can finally stop plugging his ears and sing to himself whenever Sam and Charlie are in the same room. He takes his shirt off and makes himself comfortable with a pillow tucked underneath him while browsing through the _Game of Thrones_ wiki page to find out which episode he left off at. 

He hears Cas’s bare feet patter against the bunker’s floor, and Dean cranes his neck to observe Cas nimbly squirting the tubes of paint onto a plastic palette. When he got these stuff, he didn’t know. Maybe when he went out the last time with Sam for groceries.

He soon feels Cas’s weight sitting on top of his butt, and he wiggles experimentally. “Hey there.”

“ _Dean_.”

Dean laughs, and stills. “Anyway, ready whenever.”

Cas ghosts his hand over Dean’s bare back, and he shivers at the sensation. “This might be a little cold,” Cas warns, and gets to painting.

Dean does flinch a little at the first touch of the cold paint against his skin, but he soon gets accustomed to the brush strokes. The brushes are soft, with long wide strokes and short circular ones and little dots against his skin. Each stroke is careful and delicate and sure in its gesture, and Dean finds himself paying attention to them a little more than the show during scenes that he doesn’t really care for.

“What are you painting, anyway?” Dean asks in between switching to the next episode.

“You’ll see,” Cas murmurs, and that’s that, really. Dean snorts, and leaves Cas to concentrate on the work.

At some point Sam comes home from his workout, and stares at them. “What are you guys doing?” 

Cas is too absorbed in painting to say anything other than a muttered greeting, so Dean tries to be the responsible one. “Some couple exercise Cas found online,” he replies.

“Uh huh,” Sam says slowly, and stands there to stare at them for a little bit, the creep. “This is really weird to be around, so I’m going to my room while you guys do your… couple-y stuff.”

“What _isn’t_ weird in our lives,” Dean mutters back, and goes back to the TV.

After so many episodes, Cas declares himself done with a kiss near his hips, like he was signing his work. “Don’t move,” he warns before he leaves to grab a camera. Dean shifts a little, feeling weird without the weight on top of him now. 

Dean hears the phone’s shutter go off behind him, and he expects Cas to show him it, but… nothing. Dean looks back to find Cas staring at him from where he stands with his phone gripped in his hands. “What?”

Cas blinks, and smiles softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Dean feels the flush across his face, and clears his throat instead of giving into the temptation to deny him. “Can I see the picture?”

“Oh, yes.” Cas lies down beside him, their shoulders touching. “Here.” 

It’s… well, abstract. Impressive. Dean thinks maybe it’s supposed to be a galaxy what with all the swirling purple and blue and green and the little white dots, but there’s also constellations that he doesn’t recognize painted across near the top of his back. “Which ones are these?”

“I invented them out of your freckles,” Cas explains. “Constellations tell stories, after all.”

“So what’s their stories?”

Cas hums, and touches the screen tentatively. “About your bravery, of your loyalty, of how much capable you are of love. How much I love you. Those kinds of stories.”

Dean gulps. Sometimes he wonders what he did to deserve such intense love from someone like Cas. “C’mere, you big sap.” He tugs at Cas’s shirt, and he easily follows, smiling into their kiss. “Love you too.”

“I know,” Cas replies, and shares another gentle kiss. 


End file.
